Feed the World (Well)

I believe that everyone is given a view of the world that is different, but essentially lacking in colour, smell, taste, until we use our own senses to interpret it. For me, it isn’t just about using the really big box of crayons to colour my world (the one with the sharper in the back). I go all the way to the wooden crate you get directly from the factory – 120 colours. Some people are content to use the box of eight crayons they start out with, others might graduate to the 16-pack, but not me, and as a mother, I won’t let my children be satisfied with the little 4-pack of waxy sticks they hand out at restaurants. It is my job to supply them with as many tools as possible so they may experience the full magnitude of sight, smell, taste, sounds, and even intuitions that are out in the world.

Some people are willing to avoid exposure, even to shield their children from it. And the classic example of this is children’s menus. Parents are relieved that there is one: chicken tenders, cheese burger, pasta with marinara or butter, cheese pizza for one, mozzarella sticks, hot dog, nachos, grilled cheese that might be disguised as a quesadilla in a Mexican restaurant. That’s it; no thought, no challenge required. And the taste buds of the next generation are dumbed down as parents willingly procure another fryolated meal for their progeny who will eat without complaint or thought of flavour, as long as there are French fries and a maze.

There are those in the world who eat for sustenance, and others who combine that with eating for pleasure, and it’s no secret which camp I fall into. However, many adults who are delighted to indulge in a truly decadent meal will give no more thought to their children than whether they wanted ranch sauce to dip the chicken fingers in. Because of this, there is no impetus for restaurants to provide more culinarily challenging meals for youth. The restaurant charges what we perceive to be a reasonable price for a kids meal, and are in fact making as much as 1200% profit on the frozen treats they fry up for our kids.

Even I, with my passion for colour, used to get sucked in by children’s menus . . . the connect-the-dots, the tic-tac-toe, and the pasta, no sauce please for the bunnies. Then, a couple of years ago, we stopped for a late lunch at a little French bistro on Queen Street in Toronto. The bread came in baskets that could be raised and lowered over the table with blocks and lines that would be made off on little cleats. This was way better than a word search. The kids’ menu consisted of smaller portions of things on the adult menu: petit steak et frites, a tiny rack of lamb, a miniature portion of chicken français with lemon beurre blanc, at prices not much higher than the mac ‘n’ cheese at Friendly’s (though without the Happy Endings sundae). It was a wonderful meal; a gourmet oasis in a desert of mozzarella sticks and chicken tenders.

Not surprisingly, the young rabbits have all but stopped ordering off children’s menus. Chronologically, they still qualify, but they have higher gastronomic standards and will order off the adult menu. Personal food isn’t really an option, and they must order judiciously and creatively. If it tastes bad, no one has to eat it, but also, no one ever leaves underfed or malnourished. It requires thoughtfulness on the part of the parent, to be sure, and it certainly costs a bit more. But you’ve already made the decision to eat out. Don’t your kids, your pride and joy, deserve to eat just as well as you? If you can’t afford for everybody to have a good meal, stay home. Otherwise, let’s call restaurants on the icky food they put on those little paper menus with cartoons, and raise the bar.